


Mending a Heart

by marimoliciousness (thebirdlady)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Complementary Fanart, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-16 15:12:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2274483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebirdlady/pseuds/marimoliciousness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Thriller Bark, Sanji had been haunted by dark and conflicting emotions that he managed to suppress just fine - until a new variable entered the equation.</p><p>Expect a confused/angsty Sanji, a half-naked Zoro and in a cameo appearance a smirky Trafalgar Law.<br/>Contains spoilers for Thriller Bark (if that's still spoilerable) as well as for Punk Hazard! Proceed with care.</p><p>Comments are love! <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was one of those rare days on the Grand Line, quiet and peaceful, with no danger looming either from the calm blue sea that glittered brilliantly under the early summer sun or from the friendly little island town outside of which the Thousand Sunny was currently moored. Its far too energetic captain had, of course, been hell-bent on exploring and even the lovely ladies had conceded that a nice summer island was a welcome break after the extreme climates of Punk Hazard. Franky had offered to take them all in the Mini Merry, and, in light of the unquestionable peacefulness of the island, even Usopp had overcome his usual unfamiliar-island-related illness.

There had been a lot of yelling and laughter while everyone settled in the limited space of the boat and a few yelps when Nami-san dealt out a couple of doubtlessly well-deserved knocks, but soon the ruckus had faded into the distance and quiet settled over the Sunny, which was now empty except for Zoro, who had been left where he was sleeping in his favourite spot against the mast, and Law, who had declined to leave the ship for reasons he wouldn’t elaborate on. And although his heart was already aching for his beautiful ladies, Sanji, too, had stayed aboard. A moment of peace was a rare gift, after all. Finally, he had the opportunity to restock his _dashi_ and other basic ingredients that took time to prepare, but could be made in bulk and kept for a while. His captain’s ever-hungry presence meant that Sanji usually only found the time for this at night. So, working uninterrupted and in the day-time was a pleasant change.

Keeping the galley door open to let in the gentle summer breeze, Sanji hummed contentedly as he worked. At some point he thought he heard the low rumble of Zoro’s voice, followed by his heavy steps. But when they weren’t coming towards the galley, Sanji dismissed them from his mind and concentrated again on adjusting the delicate balance of Nami-san’s favourite mikan marinade to perfection.

It was already late afternoon, when Sanji straightened and stretched his back until it loosened with a satisfying pop. Peering out of the porthole, he could just make out the Mini Merry bobbing at the town’s pier. There was no sign of his nakama though, and since it was way past time for Luffy’s regular afternoon snack and close on time for his before-dinner refreshment, it was likely that they had found a place that served enough meat to keep his captain happy. Just as well, Sanji smiled. While he loved providing for his nakama, he was still enjoying this day’s tranquil atmosphere and didn’t mind sustaining it for a little while longer.

He quickly whipped up a light summer dish that was popular in the East Blue, then hollered for Zoro and Law to come eat.

No response.

Stalking out onto the deck, he tried again. Still no reaction.

His eyebrow twitching, Sanji shook a cigarette from his pack and lit it. A deep inhale calmed his nerves a bit, but did not much to loosen the knot that had formed in his stomach. Of course, it would be the shitty moss-head that ruined this perfectly nice day, Sanji thought, taking another deep drag.

In fact, Zoro not responding wasn’t all that unusual, what with the idiot sleeping like a log when he wasn’t lugging around his ridiculously oversized weights or finding ever new ways to piss Sanji off. Or both. Except that there was no sign of Zoro now. Sanji could see the crushed grass where he had been lying before, so he couldn’t have been gone long. Hadn’t he heard footsteps before? Maybe the marimo had followed the lure of booze and swum to the island? But there hadn’t been any splashing sounds, had there? More importantly, Zoro knew full well that Sanji somehow never failed to keep them stocked on sake, so he had no reason to go to such lengths. Sanji irritably bit down on his cigarette. Damned marimo, making him think too much.

Also, none of this accounted for Law’s absence.

The knot in Sanji’s stomach tightened again, as did the muscles in his jaw. This was ridiculous! There was no reason why he should feel so unsettled. Law had probably just slunk off to the library, bookish type that he was, and Zoro… well, given the swordsman’s limited range of interests and seeing how he couldn’t have made it past Sanji to the sake stack without being noticed, that only really left the crow’s nest-cum-muscle factory. Yes, that was probably it.

Still, Sanji's stomach felt like a piece of hot, hard coal.

 _Shit_.

He stomped out the badly chewed butt of one cigarette, only to light another as he set off to find the source of his unease. And the marimo.

He first looked into the library, but found it empty. As was the sick bay, the aquarium bar and Nami-san’s mikan grove. Swearing under his breath, Sanji swung up the ladder to the crow’s nest. He kicked the door open, fully prepared for a retaliatory attack from a sweat-drenched meathead. Truth be told, he was actually looking forward to it. Anything that constituted normal behaviour between the two of them would be welcome. But when he was met with nothing but stale air and neatly stacked weights, it took all of his willpower - and the prospect of one of Franky’s lectures - not to kick one of the dumbbells through the window in frustration.

Damnit! Why was he so worked up anyway? Sanji ground his teeth. Of course he knew the answer to that shitty question, he just preferred not to think about it. Not during the day - or ever, if he could help it. Anger usually did the trick, and directing it toward Zoro came as easily and naturally to him as breathing. But now Zoro wasn’t here to vent his annoyance on, which was bad, and Law was conspicuously absent as well, which was even worse.

Keeping a watchful eye on their new “ally” had seemed only reasonable at the time, but Sanji sometimes wondered if he wouldn’t have preferred it if Law had turned his coat on the straw-hats just as he had on Caesar Clown before. Instead, the warlord’s - conscious or subconscious - attack had come where Sanji had least expected it…

_swords glinting in the sunlight_

_the soft, even swishing of cloth against steel_

_deep voices in low conversation_

_dark eyes glittering with interest and reluctant respect_

_rough features softened by rare almost-smiles_

A bitter burn stung his lips and Sanji scowled, spitting out the remainder of the cigarette he’d let smoulder to a stub.

_Focus, eggplant!_

He cold almost feel the impact of a wooden leg against his head. Right. Focus. Lighting another cigarette and relishing the familiar sting of smoke in his lungs, Sanji forcefully pushed down the jumble of emotions that had risen to his throat.

 _Shit_.

Exhale.

 _Okay_.

There were still places he hadn’t checked, right? Places he would, under normal circumstances, loved to have an excuse to investigate … he took a moment to wipe a drop of blood from under his nose … and places he really would have preferred to stay away from, thank you very much. Ruling out Usopp and Franky’s workshops as holding no interest for either Zoro or Law, he grimaced. Even marimos and warlords had to pee sometimes, he supposed, and Nami-san had long ago and very wisely implemented extremely expensive penalties if any of the guys even thought about relieving themselves over the railing, ever again. And since this was the idiot moss-head, he had likely just fallen asleep again while he was on the can.

Annoyed and not a little apprehensive, Sanji jumped back down onto the deck and marched over to the men’s quarters. Bracing himself, he pushed open the door.

\---

It took his eyes his last two steady heartbeats to adjust from the bright afternoon sunlight outside to the gloom inside. And then everything suddenly became very unreal. Sanji barely noticed his cigarette falling from his limp mouth, trailing a thin waft of smoke, before sizzling out on the adam wood floor. Somewhere far away, his heart was kicking the insides of his ribs as if it wanted out, out, out! And Sanji felt a weird kind of sympathy, as he, too, wished he were anywhere but here right now.

And yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight before him.

There was no mistaking that broad, muscled back, the strong shoulders curled forward, broad hands stemmed against the wall, trapping someone there. Irregular sucking noises were emerging from where the green head was tucked in the crook of the other’s neck and delicate hands, showing very white against a black-clad butt, squeezed once, tightly, earning a muffled groan that went straight to Sanji’s core. His breath hitched and a low chuckle made his his gaze snap up only to be trapped by dark eyes glittering from under an even darker mop of hair. There was a challenge in that look as the hands squeezed again, pulling - there came that groan again! - and grinding.

Nothing subconscious about that.

Sanji snapped. He was, by both nature and upbringing, no stranger to the feeling of anger, but the fury that was now boiling up in his stomach, burning in his lungs and pounding in his skull was something he’d only ever experienced once before.

_a huge bear looming over his bloody and beaten nakama_

_panic, agony, then crushing pain in his side, then darkness_

No! He refused to remember this! Not again. Sanji balled his hands tightly enough to make the tendons creak audibly under the strain. But even the sharp pain of his nails biting into his palms couldn’t distract him, as his eyes were drawn towards the sight of a naked back whose topography was engraved in his memory in every minute detail.

_found him! shitty asshole just standing-_

_fuck_

_oh fuck_

_unmoving muscle and blood, so much blood_

_you fucking bastard! stubborn fucking idiot!_

_you’re not supposed to… not when I…_

No. Nonononono. Feeling like he was about to burst from the strain of stemming himself against a flood of unwanted memories and all the pain and confusion they carried, Sanji made use of his helpless rage in the only way he knew how. He charged.

A few quick steps forward and he found himself with a fistful of that stupid haramaki. Yanking hard.

“Oi!”

Zoro attempted to spin around to the source of this abrupt interruption, but his backwards momentum made him teeter and hop awkwardly in order to avoid landing on his butt.

Sanji was almost disappointed when he realized that Law’s hands slid off Zoro’s sides easily. Though usually wary of the warlord’s creepy powers, Sanji wouldn’t have minded kicking him back into the calm belt now, even if it meant that his own crappy heart would probably be crushed, quite literally, in the attempt - not that there was much left to crush. He didn’t have much time for introspection though, because true to form, Zoro had quickly recovered from his initial shock and was exuding a massive cloud of black anger behind him.

Good. Sanji was more than ready for a fight! And if Law wasn’t obliging, Zoro would do just fine.

And yet, Sanji’s hand was still clutching that ratty haramaki.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing, asshole!” Zoro growled.

“Shut up.” Sanji bit out, not turning back. He felt rather than saw the fist that came flying at his head and he dodged it easily, a rush of dislocated air ruffling his hair. Tightening his grip, he again yanked hard and marched towards the cabin’s door.

“Let go of me _now_.” Zoro’s voice had dropped to that icy level that usually preceded the donning of his black bandana. It sent a shiver down Sanji’s spine, but he still didn’t relax his hold. He wasn’t afraid of Zoro, not in a fight anyway, and he knew that one was coming. But for once, he didn’t want an audience.

“Just shut the fuck up and come outside,” he ground out and put all his strength into one final pull. When Zoro stumbled forward, Sanji jumped out of the way and, landing on his hands, spun to deliver a fierce kick that send Zoro flying through the open door and out onto the lawn.

Righting himself, Sanji threw a last look over his shoulder at a smirking Law.

“You stay out of this,” he snarled, before stepping out of the cabin as well and slamming the door shut behind him. He briefly debated lighting another cigarette, but in the end he decided against it. This situation was beyond the power of nicotine. Squaring his shoulders, Sanji turned to face his fate.

\---

Sanji had seen lesser men loose their shit when confronted with Zoro’s ferocity, and even he had to consciously force himself to keep his pace steady and his back straight as he walked towards the seething marimo.

“What. The fuck. Is your problem?!” Zoro growled, Sandai Kitetsu and Shusui already in his hands. Sanji breathed a secret sigh of relief. If the idiot had been planning on killing him, Wado would be out as well. Having long practice in analysing this particular opponent, Sanji took mental note of Zoro’s scowl (angry) and his pose (ready, but strangely held back, confused perhaps?) as he kept walking towards him, hands buried deep in his pockets. They were the most precious tools of a chef, yes, but more annoyingly, he was too agitated to completely suppress their trembling - a sign of weakness obvious to those who knew to look for it. And for all his blessed obliviousness in some matters, Sanji had to concede that when it came to fighting, Zoro could read him almost as well as the other way around. Handing the marimo any kind of trump card was out of the question, of course.

By the time he was stopping, just out of sword-range, Sanji was sporting an impressive glower of his own.

“I made dinner and it’s getting cold.”

The tips of Zoro’s swords lowered a fraction as he stared at him, incredulous.

“ _That’s_ what this is about?”

_No it isn’t!_

“Of course it is!” Sanji barked. “You know that I won’t forgive anyone for wasting good food.”

Zoro raised his eyebrows. “That so? Then how come I don’t see you bitching at Law about this?”

 _Shit_.

Fucking marimo, straight to the point as always.

Sanji might not have liked admitting when Zoro had him at a disadvantage, but there was no point denying it when the next thing he noticed was the swordsman’s massive (and half-naked) frame right in front of him, swords already tucked away and dark eyes staring straight into his heart.

“Keep it in the fridge, I’ll eat it later.”

For a moment the air between sizzled as if it had been charged by one of Nami-san’s Thunder Balls and Sanji could practically feel the deep rumble of Zoro’s voice resonating against his skin. But then the probing gaze turned away, and Sanji was left with the sinking feeling that he had just failed an important assessment.

He immediately bristled at the very idea. As if the marimo could come up with any challenge that Sanji couldn’t meet! He was just about to give him a piece of his mind when Zoro made to brush past him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

_The hell you have!_

Without thinking, he grabbed Zoro’s upper arm, but this time the swordsman was prepared. Sanji felt hard muscles shifting in his grip, heard the hair-raising _shinggg_ of metal against metal, and barely had time to lift a leg to block the blade aimed directly at his head.

“What the fuck!” he shouted, flipping backwards and deflecting another blow. Zoro was coming at him relentlessly now, predatory intent oozing from every pore, and for the next minute or so all Sanji could do was parry and fend off and try to figure out Zoro’s next action. It was terrifying. And intense. And fucking exhilarating! When had they last fought all out like this? Sure, he’d seen a couple of Zoro’s new moves but being on the receiving end of them? And also having the opportunity to show off his own improvements? There was nothing like it! Soon, Sanji found a first opening and then another, and another. His heart was beating fast and hard again, but this time he felt good and oh so alive! In a moment of respite he realised that he was grinning, his mouth spread wide enough to rival his captain’s.

As their fight evened out and they found an old rhythm within new techniques, Sanji also felt a change in Zoro. He wasn’t grinning, of course, not even smiling. Sanji hadn’t seen him offer anything more cheerful than a predatory smirk since… well, since Thriller Bark. Nevertheless, the marimo’s attacks, while still insanely powerful, were less grim, his movements loosened up, becoming even more graceful and fluid.

They were feeding off each other’s strengths, pouncing on the slightest weaknesses, and Sanji gave himself up to the energy only they could create, revelling in the joy of understanding and being understood, of knowing and being known.

“You think too much,” a deep voice rumbled in his ear, and then there was a rush and dull thud as his back made impact with the Sunny’s wooden deck, hard enough to knock the air from his lungs. For a moment he just lay there, gasping and staring stupidly at a single cloud slowly moving across the sky above him. But when the pressure on his chest didn’t ease, he lowered his chin to find Zoro looming over him. One elbow behind Sanji’s neck, he was holding him in a tight grip, while the full weight of his upper body kept Sanji pinned neatly to the ground at an angle that made it impossible for him to use his legs for leverage.

“Gotcha,” Zoro murmured, voice low and strangely intimate, and Sanji found his breath being stolen for the second time in as many minutes - and for as many reasons.

This wasn’t good. Zoro was too close. Surely he could feel Sanji’s heart hammering in his chest, and physical exertion could only cover up the real reason for so long. Which he was not planning on revealing to the marimo. Ever.

Panic rising in his throat, Sanji began to struggle.

“Get off of me, you moron.”

“No.”

Sanji kept writhing and squirming, but he might as well have tried to wriggle out from under Chopper in his Monster Point form. Which he would have preferred, if he was being honest, seeing how having his face pressed into Zoro’s warm, sweat-slicked pectorals wasn’t helping his situation either. Doing his best to ignore the musky scent exuding from the marimo, he slumped back to re-gather his strength.

“I’ll kill you,” he stated.

“You’re already killing me,” came the muttered response, but when Sanji looked up in surprise, Zoro’s face was turned away.

For a while, awkward silence settled over the deck. Sanji watched the lonely cloud move slowly out of his field of vision as he tried to come up with a new strategy. His back was starting to hurt from staying twisted in one position for too long and there still was the matter of his rapidly beating heart, but there was a part of him that was kind of happy. Some of that was certainly the residue of their earlier fight - adrenaline was a wonderful thing, after all - but with Zoro being right there, in front of him, around him, Sanji couldn’t deny that he liked being this close to the other man. Nor had he any doubt that this would end in disaster. But having been set on that road ever since he decided to drag Zoro out of his lover’s arms ... he grimaced involuntarily ... he might as well make the most of it while he could.

Above him, Zoro sighed and his dark, troubled gaze settled on Sanji again. (His grip, however, didn’t let up, much to Sanji’s chagrin.)

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but … wanna talk about it?”

“No!” Sanji squawked, horrified.

And on any normal day, Zoro would've shown his relief by flinging a few unimaginative insults at him, to which Sanji would have responded with a choice of highly creative ones, and they both would've gone on pretending that they were far too manly to have anything as pathetic as _feelings_. This day, however, hadn't been normal from the start.

“As you wish.”

Zoro's tone was flat, chilly even, almost as if he was...

No, wait, this was bad. Disappointed Zoro was very bad, Sanji realised when the hot tightness returned to his stomach with a vengeance, even as the hold on his neck loosened and the weight on his chest started to lift. The pain in his back subsided as well as he uncoiled into a more natural position, but Sanji only registered this at the back of his mind. The front of his mind was too busy spinning and hurling a disordered mass of questions at him, old ones that he’d been afraid to answer and new ones that he was afraid to ask. But even as panic was squeezing his throat shut again, there was one single clear thought that overruled everything: Zoro was leaving.

And that, it turned out, was more frightening than anything else.

Suddenly, there was only one way forward. With a lurch, Sanji sat up on his knees, reaching for Zoro before he could get off the floor. It was all he could do to hold on and meet Zoro’ gaze as it travelled, clearly not amused, from Sanji’s hands to his face.

“That again?”

“Fuck, Zoro, just ... wait. There’s something I,” taking a deep breath, "I need ...”

Zoro just stared at him, then back at his hands where they were clawing white streaks into tanned skin. Sanji didn’t want to let go. What if he did and Zoro disappeared… again. The familiar barrage of guilt and fear and misery hammered at him again, and Sanji almost caved, almost crawled back into himself as he always did.

But unreal as the whole situation felt, there was warm flesh under his fingers, strong and alive. The solid centre of the nerve-fraying vortex that had been haunting him for over two years, right here in his grasp. His one, and only, chance to regain sanity, perhaps. All he had to do was to have faith in Zoro, his nakama if nothing else, and take the leap.

So Sanji lept.

He opened himself up, allowing the crippling pain to flow through him, acknowledging it, accepting it for what it was. The guilt of not being able to protect his crew, the fear of losing one of them forever, the misery of realising why failing Zoro in particular was worst of all. And it hurt. It was excruciating, but at the same time, Sanji felt himself being cleansed, as if a reservoir of polluted muck was drained from his mind and replaced with fresh, cool seawater. And when he found that he didn’t drown, he finally let go of his last conflicted illusion, to the anchor he was clinging to even now, his strength stolen rather than freely given.

Turned out he’d had a heart to be ripped out, after all...

But before the grief could truly register in his already overstrained mind, there was an unexpected touch, warm on his cheeks and slightly rough where it brushed underneath his eyes, gently swiping at the tears that he only now realised were freely flowing. He blinked a few times to get a better view of the green blur in front of him, but to no avail. Then he was tucked forward and into a solid chest, and suddenly he was surrounded by warmth and musk and a deep, familiar growl.

“You’re such an idiot.”

But Sanji only smiled as he felt the voice vibrate under his cheek, and buried his face deeper into Zoro’s neck. Not only was he not drowning, he was being willingly supported, and breath by breath, stroke of an affectionate hand on his back by stroke, the dreadful memories and his fears began to melt and dilute until all he was feeling was drained.

And safe.


	2. Chapter 2

_This is awkward._

Sanji was still in Zoro’s arms, feeling sticky and overheated from crying and the ridiculous amount of warmth all that muscle around him radiated. He was also feeling not a little mortified.

How could he have broken down like that - and in front of the marimo of all people! His only solace was that Nami-san and Robin-chwan hadn’t been around to see him like this. There was a good chance that Zoro wouldn’t let him live this down, but at least Sanji could kick _his_ stupid head in.

Then he remembered Law.

_Oh, shit._

There came a surprised “Oi!” from above when Sanji straightened up without warning, knocking his head under Zoro’s chin. Ignoring the marimo, Sanji shot a quick glance to the men’s cabin. Thankfully, the door was still closed, but had he just seen a shadow move behind its window?

A new kind of heat crept into his face and he hoped very much that Zoro wouldn’t notice. No such luck, though. The asshole was audibly smirking.

“Aww, you embarrassed, love-cook?”

“Tch,” Sanji huffed, fishing out a cigarette. He quickly lit it and waited until his lungs had filled with soothing smoke a few times. “I just don’t appreciate other people sticking their nose in my business.”

“Kinda hypocritical of you, don’t you think.” The temperature around Sanji dropped as behind him Zoro shifted into his usual slump against the railing. “Care to explain what _your_ nose was doing in Law’s and my business earlier?”

Sanji winced. Again with the blasted straightforwardness. Mincing words really was an underrated skill.

He didn’t want to answer, didn’t really _have_ a good answer. But chickening out in front of the marimo? Unthinkable! Much less after what had just occurred.

Sanji took another deep drag and exhaled slowly into the still, mild air. The sun was already low in the sky, dipping the Thousand Sunny in warm, orange light and long shadows. When he finally turned towards Zoro, all he could make out at first was one glittering eye in a stark, angular silhouette.

Sanji’s scalp tingled and his breath caught in his throat. There was always something predatory about Zoro, even when he appeared thoroughly relaxed, and even though that certainly didn’t intimidate Sanji, he had to admit that it was kinda hot. And perhaps it was because Sanji was exhausted or because his earlier flood of emotions had torn down walls that hadn’t had enough time to build up again, but whatever the reason, in that moment he finally made peace with the fact that, yes, he was attracted to the shitty marimo. Perhaps even more than that.

It was Thriller Bark that had forcibly opened Sanji’s eyes to a possibility he’d formerly never even wasted a thought on: Zoro could die. And Zoro _would_ die. Without a second thought. For his captain, for his nakama, even if they wanted him to live, to fulfil his ambition, to reach his dream.

Sanji would never forget the crushing fear he’d felt when he found Zoro later ( _blood, so much blood_ ), a wrecked body, torn and shredded, held together only by sheer stubbornness. The heart-wrenching moment of terror when he couldn’t tell if Zoro was even still alive. And that terrible, terrible guilt. He’d been too weak to prevent this, too weak to stop Zoro from sacrificing himself - too fucking weak to match Zoro’s resolve.

_If you can’t even protect your captain, then your ambition is worthless!_

Yes. But what did it say about you if you couldn’t even protect the one person you could not, under any circumstances, lose to? The one who annoyed and irritated you more than anyone else. The one whose death was suddenly ripping a hole into the very fabric of your soul…

“Oi,” Zoro’s voice broke into his thoughts.

_Alive. He’s alive._

To his surprise and considerable relief Sanji found that while the vicious memories had not miraculously disappeared after his little break-down just now, the despair that usually rode in their wake had faded. Back on the cursed ship, he had been too battered, too drained to even begin to make sense of what had happened. And while Chopper had done an excellent job of patching up Sanji’s body, his heart remained in tatters. Then came Sabaody and with it more pain and fear, and then … two years in hell. During those days, his nightmares wore wigs and make-up and flowery dresses. At night, though, they were clad in a blood-drenched white shirt and a ratty haramaki.

But not tonight. Sanji could feel it in his bones: tonight he would sleep better than he had ever since that whole ordeal began. And apparently all he’d needed was to cry his eyes out in Zoro’s arms…

“Oi, dartbrow,” Zoro repeated more emphatically, “you’re spacing out.” 

Dragging himself back to reality, Sanji found Zoro regarding him closely, clearly concerned. Sanji shot him a weak smile and had to fight the urge to reach out and smoothen the furrow that formed far too easily between his sharp brows. He sometimes missed those early days on the Grand Line, when, despite everything they’d already been through, neither of them had been so fucking grown up and Zoro was as quick to laugh as he was to fight. Then again, Zoro would never have watched him with this unwavering scrutiny back then, the kind that made a unique mix of gratitude and gratification rise in Sanji’s chest, as well as something that might have started out as fondness, but was rapidly growing to overwhelming proportions. Sanji quickly hid his face behind his fringe, but the last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place.

He needed Zoro.

Sanji didn’t know, or really care, when this had happened. Their relationship had always been a peculiar one, but for the longest time he’d been quite content with their singular blend of ribbing, fighting and the occasional flawless teamwork. And that might never have changed if it hadn’t been for a shitty warlord appearing out of nowhere and upsetting the precious balance between them.

With the possible exception of their captain (but then, Luffy was the exception to everything) and his swords, Sanji hadn’t known that Zoro was even capable of giving anyone what he was freely offering to Law: attention, appreciation, those fucking almost-smiles.

And his passion.

To Sanji’s knowledge, the marimo had never shown any notable interest in anyone before, male or female.Admittedly, Law was gorgeous, but he was also the most rigid and reserved pirate Sanji had ever met, which made the change in the marimo even more shocking. Sanji had known something was different when he’d first observed the two taciturn men sitting together on the Sunny’s lawn, quietly talking while tending to their swords. He’d put down the twinge in his guts to his general distrust of the _fucking Surgeon of Death right on their ship_ , but even after it became clear that Law was not about to murder them all in their hammocks, Sanji’s unease kept growing. As did the frequency with which the two swordsmen could be seen together - the quiet eye of whichever storm the Strawhat crew was whipping up around them. Looking back, it was obvious that his greatest fear had been exactly what happened in the end: that Law was getting what Sanji hadn’t even known was on the menu!

Above them a seagull cried, riding the gentle breeze that rustled in the mikan-trees and drew a soft chime from Zoro’s earrings. Sanji’s insides clenched. He never would have thought it possible, but he’d _missed_ that sound. For two fucking years.

This time, his hand was faster than his brain and before he knew it, he’d run a finger along the cool metal, making the golden rods ring out again. And again. To his amazement, Zoro didn’t draw away; he didn’t even comment, just kept very still, his gaze fixed on Sanji. His heart thumping hard in his chest, Sanji allowed his fingertips to touch warm skin. Zoro still didn’t protest, even as Sanji began to softly stroke his cheek. Had his breathing just sped up a little, though? Encouraged, Sanji cupped the side of Zoro’s face in his palm and gently brushed his thumb over the scar where it dissected the delicate skin under Zoro’s eye.

Zoro’s breath definitely hitched, but he still wasn’t pulling away.

“Why are you letting me do this,” Sanji murmured, his voice sounding strange and far away in his own ears. The possibilities were clamouring in his mind: Did Zoro want this? Did he even understand? What if he did? What if he did! The thought was exhilarating. It was also scary as hell.

“You tell me, love-cook,” Zoro replied evenly. To anyone else he might have appeared entirely unaffected, but Sanji had known him long enough, fought against him, and with him, often enough to see that underneath his unruffled exterior the swordsman was tense as a tightly coiled spring, holding back, waiting.

Nor did Sanji fail to catch the challenge in that dark, level gaze. By now his heart was fluttering rapidly in his chest and he was beginning to feel light-headed. But he had to know.

“You…,” he started tentatively, “you like me touching you?

The stoic façade cracked a little.

“…Yeah.”

Given his natural tan and the poor lighting conditions, there was no way to see Zoro’s blush, but the skin under Sanji’s palm was growing noticeably warmer. Swallowing hard around the lump of fierce affection that was suddenly lodging in his throat, Sanji instinctively soothed his thumb over Zoro’s cheek, once, twice - and then he couldn’t stop. He kept stroking and stroking and Zoro closed his eye, some of the tension seeping from his body as he leaned, cautiously, into Sanji’s touch. The air in Sanji’s lungs constricted, making it difficult to breathe. Damn, but the shitty marimo would be the death of him yet.

_You’re already killing me._

Zoro had said that, earlier… _Oh…_ Sanji’s eyes widened and the stub of his cigarette fell from his slack mouth to sizzle out on the deck.

Still cupping the strong jaw, Sanji lifted his thumb to gently brush it against Zoro’s lips.

“Well,” he murmured breathlessly, “if you don’t want to talk, why don’t you show me instead?”

Zoro’s eye snapped open and for a terrifying instant Sanji thought he’d made a mistake. There was no way the marimo-

And then his lips were crushed in the least refined kiss he’d ever received. It was hard and clumsy and somewhat off-kilter, but when shy, callused fingers tenderly stroked against his face, Sanji melted into the contact. Adjusting the angle a little, he gently swiped his tongue across Zoro’s lips, using the gasp of surprise to push in. Their tongues met, and Zoro groaned deep in his throat, turning Sanji’s bones to liquid. His whole world narrowed down to the points where their bodies connected: the agile tongue sparring with his own, the strong fingers carded into his hair, the unexpectedly soft texture of the moss under his own fingers. When he’d first seen Zoro again, Sanji hadn’t been sure what to make of this new hairstyle - the resemblance to a real marimo ball was somewhat ruined - but when Zoro deepened their kiss, thoroughly exploring his mouth with an inquisitive tongue, Sanji was glad that the longer hair gave him something to hold on to.

 _Wow_. Zoro proved a surprisingly fast leaner.

But Sanji wouldn’t be defeated so easily. Tightening his hold, he pulled himself right into Zoro’s lap and launched a counter-attack on his mouth that soon left them both panting for air.

Hands still in each other’s hair and foreheads touching, they both tried to get their breathing back under control. Sanji, who had closed his eyes at some point, popped them open when he heard a low, unfamiliar sound. Zoro’s shoulders were shaking and it took Sanji a full three heartbeats to realise that the marimo was chuckling.

“Oi, what’s so funny,” he asked, apprehension creeping up on him again. He himself was only beginning to understand just how much Zoro actually meant to him, so if this was nothing but a joke to the marimo, it was the last thing Sanji wanted to hear right now. Or so he thought.

“It’s just,” Zoro said, smirking, even as he was lightly scratching Sanji’s scalp with one hand. “for someone who was freaking out only a minute ago, you chose an odd place to do this. I bet Law is-”

Without warning, Sanji yanked Zoro into an bruising kiss, biting none too gently on the plush lower lip. He was boiling with rage and was close to drawing blood when Zoro’s hands tightened painfully in his hair, pulling him off. 

“You crazy bastard,” Zoro growled, pink tongue darting out to probe at his doubtlessly throbbing lip, “what the hell was that?”

“He can’t have you!” The words were spat out before Sanji could stop himself. Turned out he was far too furious to care. The mere mention of Law had tied his stomach into a hot knot again, and he hated it. He hated Law for still being on Zoro’s mind, and he hated Zoro for having chosen Law in the first place.

Zoro lowered a piercing glare at Sanji, who was reminded once again that despite his unpolished appearance the swordsman was actually very, very perceptive. Far too perceptive for comfort. Still, Sanji stubbornly held his gaze. Losing to Zoro wasn’t even the issue here; losing Zoro to Law was.

“Why not,” Zoro demanded, his voice low and challenging.

Sanji clamped his mouth shut. What could he say? That he was jealous of Law? That he wanted Zoro for himself? He’d sooner bite his tongue off! Admitting his feelings to himself was one thing, but spilling the beans to the marimo? That was a whole different level of awkward and Sanji had embarrassed himself enough as it was.

Zoro was looking at him searchingly, but when no explanation was forthcoming, his expression abruptly closed off. His fingers fell away from Sanji’s hair and he would have pushed him off his lap if Sanji hadn’t quickly dropped his hands to clutch the broad shoulders in a death grip.

_No!_

“No!”

Zoro stilled, then sighed as he carefully began to pry Sanji’s fingers off his body.

“What do you want, cook,” he asked wearily.

Sanji was growing desperate. Here was his chance literally slipping from his fingers, and all he could do was watch helplessly as he was losing his hold, digit by digit.

“I don’t …,” he started, and faltered again.

Zoro had already successfully removed one hand and, holding it securely in his own, was moving on to the other.

“Zoro, no…”

The rest of Sanji’s fingers were eased off and cradled just as securely, just as carefully, as the others between Zoro’s warm palms.

_He's protecting my hands._

The most important tools a cook possessed.

There had never been any doubt, of course, that Zoro knew Sanji very well when it came to his fighting methods and techniques, but now it was becoming evident that Zoro must have paid far more attention to him than Sanji would have believed.

And what was more, Zoro obviously cared. Enough to let Sanji touch him, to let him cry on him, to let him _kiss_ him. For all the world to see. Zoro, who was even more protective of his privacy than Sanji was, had known all along that they were probably being watched by Law, and he hadn’t held back at all, regardless.

Zoro, who was even now waiting patiently for Sanji to get his shit together.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Sanji gently tugged and when Zoro’s grip loosened, he nimbly lined up their hands and carded their fingers together. He squeezed, tentatively, and to his great relief Zoro returned the pressure. Sanji wasn’t out of the woods yet, but he was given one more chance. It was likely the last one he would get.

“Say it, Sanji.”

And Sanji didn’t know if it was the quiet tone or the use of his name, or maybe just the knowledge that he couldn’t mess this up and live with himself afterwards that made him draw another deep breath, gathering all his courage. Even though he kept his eyes locked on their intertwined hands, his voice was remarkably steady.

“He can’t have you, because _I_ want you. Zoro ... these past two years, and even before, you don't know what that was like." Sanji shuddered at the familiar memories, but reminding himself that he was holding Zoro’s strong, capable, _alive_ hands in his own right now was helping to keep him grounded. "I can't give you up again, I just ... can't." Sanji's fingers tightened involuntarily. "Damnit, I fucking need you.”

His heart was thumping so hard in his chest that he thought it might crack his ribs, but there, he’d gone and said it. Let the marimo do with it as he pleased.

Zoro cautiously disentangled one hand and brought it up to touch Sanji’s cheek, brushing away the bangs, and when Sanji looked up, there was nothing 'almost' about the smile softening Zoro’s sharp features.

“You really are an idiot, love-cook. All you ever had to do was ask.”

And Sanji’s lips were claimed in the gentlest kiss.

\---

Night had just fallen when mayhem returned to the Thousand Sunny.

There was much laughter while Luffy, Usopp, Chopper and even Momonosuke, accompanied by violin and guitar, re-enacted all the great adventures, funny strangers (and all the _meat!_ ) the others had missed, and Sanji found himself humming along as he was preparing the nightcaps for his lovely ladies. Crazy as his nakama might be, it was good to have everyone back again.

About an hour later, the adventurers had all gone to bed and Sanji was leaning against the railing, smoking his final cigarette of the day and contemplating whether to climb up to the crow’s nest afterwards, where he knew Zoro was keeping watch.

Above him, the clear night sky arched as far as he could see and it wouldn’t have been the the first time that Sanji felt tiny and insignificant under the weight of that vastness, the uncountable stars. He’d come a long way since that blasted rock in the middle of nowhere, had first found a father, then a whole family, people who’d made him stronger, bigger on the inside somehow. But never before had he felt something so enormous that it matched the immense space stretched out before him. Tonight, Sanji wasn’t feeling tiny at all.

He still hadn’t entirely resigned himself to the fact that it had to be the shitty marimo of all people who made him feel this way, but each time he remembered those kisses, the fiery ones as well as the gentle ones, his resistance melted in the heat that swelled in his chest - and pooled in his groin.

Law, of course, found Sanji just as he was shifting his stance to accommodate for the additional bulk in his pants.

“Good evening, Mr. Blackleg,” he said politely.

Sanji whirled around. He hadn’t even heard the damned warlord approach! But there he was, standing in his stupidly tall way a little further along the railing, just outside Sanji’s kicking-range.

“Law,” Sanji gritted out, his acute embarrassment only adding fuel to his ire. Law, however, was not even looking at him, but gazing outwards into the night.

“I believe that you are displeased with me, Mr. Blackleg.”

Sanji snorted. Displeasure didn’t even begin to describe the feelings currently churning in his guts.

“But wouldn’t you agree that it has all turned out for the best, in the end?”

“No thanks to you, shitty bastard.”

Sanji scowled as Law turned to regard him, clearly unruffled.

“On the contrary, Mr. Blackleg. I believe that if it wasn’t for my intervention you and Roronoa would still be pining for each other, wasting time in an incredibly foolish fashion.” His gaze darkened and Sanji suddenly found himself staggering under the weight of the warlord’s haki. “Haven’t you realised by now that life is short?”

Before Sanji could put together a reply, Law had looked away and the pressure lifted as quickly as it had descended. Sanji was still trying to surreptitiously regain control over his breathing when Law spoke again.

“Don’t take too long making up your mind about going up there,” he indicated the crow’s nest with his chin, “unless, perhaps, you’re not as devoted to him as I assumed? In that case,” he added contemplatively,” I might yet be tempted…”

Law trailed off when he noticed Sanji bristle, chewing on his cigarette and barely restraining his urge to kick the asshole overboard, warlord or no.

“I see,” Law said, entirely too smugly. “Have a good night, then, Mr. Blackleg.” He turned to walk back towards the men’s cabin, but not before Sanji had caught a glimpse of the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

_Tch, shitty, meddling warlord._

“I will!” Sanji called after him, perhaps a little too defiantly. He flicked the sad remainder of his cigarette over the railing and quickly made his way up the mast to the crow’s nest. He hadn’t taken two steps inside before large hands were shoved into his hair and up his shirt, pulling him tight against a warm, solid body. If there was any protest on his lips, it was swallowed in a fierce, possessive kiss fit to chase away even the last remnants of doubt he might have held.

Sanji was gasping when he finally came up for some much-needed air, but he noticed with some satisfaction that Zoro was in no better state himself.

“Call that a kiss, marimo?” he teased, wrapping an arm around Zoro’s neck ( _mine_ ) and pushing the other hand into Zoro’s robe until it was splayed over the smooth skin of his broad back ( _you’re mine_ ). Drawing their bodies even closer, he relished the low moan ghosting over his mouth, the grip tightening in his hair. Zoro’s gaze was searing, full of dark promise, and Sanji grinned even as he was closing the distance between them once more. “Let me show you how it's really done.”

**Author's Note:**

> I made a fanart of the scene where Zoro pins Sanji down (as well as of several other scenes in this fic):  
>   
> In case you're interested, there's a full-size version of it on my tumblr (marimoliciousness) here: http://marimoliciousness.tumblr.com/image/89046199399 (^_^)


End file.
